


The Incredible Mistake

by Phrawger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrawger/pseuds/Phrawger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In case you needed to kill me, but you can’t! I know! I tried!… I got low. I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth… and the Other Guy spit it out.” -- Bruce Banner</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Incredible Mistake

He was so tired. So tired of running, of hiding, of focusing so hard on locking himself away that he could never find a moment’s rest. He had no family. He couldn’t risk friends. And love? Please. Don’t make him laugh. You wouldn't like to hear that laugh. It would be a hollow echo of what used to be; a grim reminder that because he couldn’t hold back his rage, he didn’t deserve to feel anything else.  
It really only hit him when he took a single minute of solace to duck into a coffee shop. He’d found a fiver on the ground a few blocks away. There hadn’t been a warm meal for him in a few days, and he had barely any time or security to get a good night’s rest. It was a godsend. Some sort of divine signal that things might just work out. Heh. Don’t make him laugh.

He walked in, head lowered, ball cap secured and shading his eyes. Sure, it was the middle of Nebraska, but word spreads quickly in small-town Midwest. Better safe than surly. All sorts of doctor’s orders to go with his condition. “Decaf coffee, black,” he mumbled, and slid the five onto the counter. He took his change and glanced at the newspaper rack. “And, uh, a paper. Anything with national weather stuff.” The last thing he needed was a stray peal of thunder to push his buttons.

He sat down with the cup and the paper and took a few tentative sips. “Decaf” wasn’t always “decaf” depending on the coffee house, and because he really, really needed to make that distinction he couldn’t afford to assume. It was safe. More importantly, it was good. Probably the best thing he’d had in quite a while. He let the first few sips roll around on his tongue and warm his teeth up. God, that’s the stuff.

A quick flip of the page brought him to weather. Tornado Alley was in full swing. Dammit. He might have to wait here a day or two, but even that could be too much. There had been too many accidents, too many Hulk-outs that had caused him too many reasons to double-back to throw off the scent. And now it was either be stuck here and risk being caught, or risk a storm and wake up in God-knows-where Kentucky the next morning.

He sighed and folded his paper, tossing back on the table and picking his cup back up. As he took a long drink of the bitter, he glanced at the back cover. A heart-wrenching interview with a family whose home was devastated by a tornado in… Hays, Kansas.

His heart skipped a beat. Something pounded in the back of his mind. Hays. Oh, you gotta be kidding me… Pound.

 

A gas station. His last few bucks. A pack of cigarettes to calm his nerves. Two-fifty, pal. You got it.

A skinny kid with a shaven head. Open the register! A glock. Now, faggot! Let’s go! Oh, please. Oh please God, not now. Not here. Just take it easy, don’t- please-

FUCK YOU! Move it, dweeb! No, listen, you don’t under-

Bang.

Silence.

Green.

SMASH.

 

The sky was clear that day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. But he was there. He was there that day.

Pound. “We didn’t even see it com-“ Pound. “-ing, just this loud roarin-“ Pound. “-g. Everywhere, from all sides. Smash-“ Pound pound. “-ed clean through the kitchen and out-“ Pound pound pound. “- of the other side. Everything’s just demolished.” Pound pound pound pound.

He threw his cup in the trash and sprinted out the door. He ran as far and as fast as he could and sat beside an old, abandoned church. He pulled his map out of his backpack and looked it over. Red lines. Green circles. Red X’s, and lines tracing backwards to find new paths. How many green circles were there? Six? Seven? Ten? How many houses had there been? How many gas stations, drug stores, coffee shops?

How many more people did he have to run over just to run away?

 

He sat in the pews of the old church, running his fingers over the worn pistol he’d snatched from a pawn shop. Two bullets. One for each of us. He smiled bitterly. He’d gotten low before, but never quite like this. He guessed that he didn’t quite know how he should approach it. A few clumsy movements later and the gun was loaded. Pound.

For anyone else, that would have been enough. He would have been set; his time would have been up. But after everything they had been through, he felt some strange tug to give the beast one last conversation.

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, a door was locked. Two great, horrible, incredibly green eyes glowered with the most distilled form of hate imaginable. “I don’t want to do this,” he said, as if he had any choice. “You’re just too much of a risk.”

The great green eyes narrowed and the beast bellowed. “I know we’re threatened, you think I don’t know that?! You think I’ve been running for so long because I want to? I’ve been running from you. I’ve been running FOR you.” Another set of roaring and most pounding on the door. It held. “Don’t you get it? We’re not always under fire! I mean,” he stammered, “we are, but we’re not…” He swore at himself. The thing wouldn’t get it anyway, what was the point? “I’m sick and tired of reading about your horror stories in the paper. I’m tired of hating myself so much because of the things you do!”

A low rumbling came from the inside of the cage. “WE…”

Banner snapped. “WE? FUCKING WE?! YOU ARE NOT A PART OF ME, YOU ARE A MISTAKE, YOU ARE THE WORST, THE MOST HORRIBLE THING THAT NATURE EVER FUCKED UP WITH, AND I WILL – NOT – BE – YOU!”

The door creaked. The green eyes flashed and the pounding got faster. Banner slammed himself up against the door. “YOU ARE THE MOST HIDEOUS PART OF ME! WHY DON’T…” The pounding let up just a bit as the door closed. Click. The lock slid shut. “…why don’t I just finish what I started.”

The most hideous part of him. Part of him. Inseparable. He’d tried. He’d failed. They were the same. So very, very angry. Scared. And tired.

 

He looked at the gun, and looked at himself. He looked at the stained glass windows and the colors dancing off the walls. He sat there for what felt like forever, and then he picked up the weapon.

The pounding didn’t leave him. It kept up even to the last. The monster kept fighting, HE kept fighting it from pure instinct. But he forced himself.

In the mouth. Eyes shut. Breathe. And three. Two. One.

Click. Bang.

Click.

SMASH.

 

Light. Much light. Smash wood. Puny chairs. Color. Light. Inside. Trapped. Puny Banner trap.

Hulk taste lead. Hulk spit out. Bullet. Puny Banner try to kill Hulk. Try to kill Puny Banner. Puny Banner never listen.

Puny Banner yelling. Yell from inside door. Hulk HATE door. Banner hate Hulk. Hulk laugh. Banner yell.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU CAN’T EVEN LET US DIE! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU’VE HURT?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY HOMES YOU’VE DESTROYED? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SMASH? I HATE YOU SO MUCH I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE”

Banner keep yelling. Light get soft. Pretty pictures. Colors. Lots of colors.

Hulk look. Hulk look for door. Hulk run. Hulk smash puny door.

Hulk not smash pretty pictures.

Hulk hate Banner. Banner hate Hulk.

Banner yell at Hulk. Hulk yell at Banner.

Banner say Hulk is awful. Hulk listen. Hulk hate.

Hulk say Hulk is Banner. Banner never listen. Banner still hate.

Hulk is angry. Hulk run. Hulk run far and fast and strong.

Hulk never outrun door.

Hulk hate door.

Hulk smash.


End file.
